A Small Gesture
by maraudler
Summary: 'The boy stood with the girl, holding onto her with all he had... and whispered two words that had been waiting for far too long.' JP/LE


She'd sit in the garden, dressing her dolls in clean frocks, then slipping into bright red wellies to jump into a puddle of mud. She'd be on the swing, flying higher and higher as the breeze swept through her hair and she laughed into the sunlight. When her father came home, she'd watch by the door as her mother rushed to see him, embracing in hugs and sweet kisses and smiles. They were happy. She wanted that.  
She'd run around the house making aeroplane noises, splashed around in the bath wearing goggles because it was the sea, sang out loud all the songs her father would sing to her as she fell asleep every night.  
But when she was alone, and it was quiet and dark, she'd close her eyes and imagine a person she could kiss, smile with, tell stories to at the end of the day. Drawings of stick figures holding hands with a red headed girl adorned her bedroom, dollhouses filled with toys that made her own family. She grew up wishing for somebody to love, just like her parents.  
Over the years her life changed, more so than she could ever believe, but she'd always hold onto the hope of true love, ridiculous as it sounded in her teenage years, the perfect plan of a romantic proposal followed by a gorgeous wedding, and a life of sweet songs and kisses. She learned that life doesn't always give you what you want.

Lily Evans leant against the wall of the kitchen, paintbrush in one hand and wiping her forehead with the other. Two hours had passed and she'd only just finished painting one side of the room sky blue, distracted by heavy thoughts that she knew were unnecessary and that the redecorating was supposed to be the source of distraction. She swept a hand through her hair and admired her work. It looked nice. The sheets on the ground were splattered with paint, as was her baggy shirt and, remembering the other three walls and that _she_was the one who had to clear up this mess because her wand work had far from artistic effects, Lily slid down the wall with a sigh. She couldn't stop her mind from wandering.  
It had been two days. _Two days._ It wasn't _that_ long, she reasoned, _her_ last mission had taken even longer, and while she was able to see James at Grimmauld Place during, it wasn't unusual for him to be gone like this.  
Besides, if anything had happened, Lily would surely know by now. They were partners after all…  
She sighed again, bringing her knees against her chest and resting her forehead on them. The thought of James flooded her mind as her eyes closed, and she pictured his smile, thought of his voice, remembered the touch of his lips on hers…  
It had been two days. She needed to get a grip.  
But then… a lot could happen in two days. A lot could happen in two _hours_ for Merlins' sake, and all too quickly Lily was sitting up, her imagination running wild. She picked up the brush that had fallen from her grip and fingered at the paint in the rough bristles, her fingers coated blue. Perhaps there had been an injury. She scratched at the paint on the handle. What if nobody was able to reach her in time? She tugged a whisker from the brush. What if James was missing? And another. What if he was alone? Hurt? Bleeding? Wiry strands fell to the floor as Lily tugged at the brush more and more in fistfuls, eyes watering as her mind raced to images of James captured, tortured, _dea_-

The front door rustled and Lily jumped. Her eyes ran to the clock by the fridge; it was nearing midnight. Oh god.  
She felt a tear drop down her cheek as she thought of the news that waited for her.  
News of -

'James.' Lily breathed.  
James was standing at the door, looking round the room and about to open his mouth as if to call, when his eyes landed on the girl crouched in the corner of the kitchen - a room away.  
'Lily.' His voice was hoarse and, as Lily saw his face drawing nearer in the light when he stepped in her direction, she saw the bruises, the bags under his eyes, his lip was bleeding.  
'JAMES!' She scrambled up, knocking over the tin of paint in her wake, and rushed through the small hall before hitting him with a hug. He immediately lifted her off her feet with a laugh, before letting her fall back into his arms. Lily buried her face in his jumper, fingers threading through his hair as her arms wrapped around his neck. The familiar scent of wood and pine was so strong; she felt tears prick at her eyelashes once again, her hug tightening.  
'Lils, are you trying to squeeze the life out of me?' James breathed into her hair with a slight chuckle.  
She loosened her grip, lifting her head to look up at him and gave a small smile.  
'I've just missed you.' She whispered, hands playing with his hair as they stared at each other, noses almost touching as he leaned down and she reached up. His eyes glistened.  
Lily looked away, her breathing hitched, and studied his face. A hand stroked his cheek softly, fingers traipsing across the bruises and cuts.  
'What happened down there?' She breathed, glancing back at him. He shook his head slightly.  
'Doesn't matter anymore.' Lily looked at him. 'You're safe, I'm safe. We're together.'  
He said it so quietly, if she hadn't been so close, Lily might not have heard him.  
She gave a soft nod, hands still resting on his cheeks, bodies so close.  
For a reason she didn't know, whether it be happiness or hope or concern, another burning tear rolled down her cheek. James pressed his forehead to hers.  
'Hey, hey, don't cry, Lils. Everything's okay.'  
His rough finger wiped the tear from her cheek, but she wasn't paying attention. She was looking straight at him.

'I love you.'  
The words had left her mouth in an instant. It wasn't the first time she'd uttered that sentence, not by a long shot, but somehow… it was different this time. There was a longing, a level even Lily couldn't comprehend, to those words that had never been there before.  
James stopped. She felt him still as his eyes locked on hers. Hazel on green. She didnt know what she was expecting, but this sudden composure frightened her.  
He blinked.  
She waited.  
And then, all in the space of two seconds, James' hand had buried deep into her mess of hair, the other cupping her face lightly. His lips fell to hers.  
Lily felt the breath knock out of her stomach as her chin was tilted upwards, eyes shut and her heart gave a loud thud. He deepened the kiss, running his hand from her hair to the small of her back. She was pressed even tighter to him, her own hands pushed against his chest, and sliding upwards back to his neck. His lips were rough, but gentle. Callus, but warm. He was so familiar, so sweet, so extraordinary that after all this time he could still make her stomach flutter and cheeks flush pink.  
Tangled in each other's arms, James finally pulled his lips from Lily's, head on hers, studying her face. She opened her eyes seconds after, to find his. Her breathing was shallow, his unsteady. He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, eyes flecked with gold, darkening. The boy stood with the girl, holding onto her with all he had… and whispered two words that had been waiting for far too long.

'Marry me.'

Lily froze. Her hands dropped, eyes widened as she stared at the boy clutching her.  
Those words. _Those words._  
She was too shocked to move. She might as well have been hit with a petrifying charm. She didn't know what to _do_.

When she was a little girl, Lily had dreamt of marrying a boy. It seemed like a lost hope, a wish that could _never_ come true. Not with the war, and her job and all the priorities that seemed so much more important than a wedding.  
As a little girl, Lily had dressed in her mothers best heels, stolen her sisters lipstick and wrapped a shawl round her body. She'd make herself _beautiful_because that's what boys wanted. She wanted to be beautiful in love, dreaming and dreaming of wearing a gown to a ballroom, waltzing in the moonlight, kissing under the stars.  
When she was asked for her hand in marriage, Lily was supposed to be beautiful. When she was asked for her hand in marriage, Lily was supposed to say 'yes' with grace, and there was _supposed_ to be a diamond ring on her finger. She'd always wanted a big gesture.

But now, Lily stood in a battered flat. She was wearing an oversized shirt covered in paint, her hair was a mess and cheeks were stained with tears.  
James was looking at her, and she was looking at him. It wasn't perfect, it was far from her dream, and it had left her stunned. But she could see the love in his eyes and could feel the love in her heart, and no amount of grace of perfection or wishes could ever compare to the beat in her chest as the word slipped from her mouth. She didn't know if she was ready, she didn't know if it was right. Lily Evans only knew that she could have never dreamt of anything as worth as loving James Potter.

'Yes.'

It was a small gesture, one nobody could have planned, but it carried a lot of love, and that, Lily thought, was what counted.


End file.
